When the Night Whispers
by Tahimikamaxtli
Summary: The things done in the night are not spoken of in the morning... A collection of mature one-shots with varying degrees of smuttiness, but since they're mature, I don't want to include them in my strictly T stories. So I'll just stick them here and update whenever I am so inclined to write these sorts of things. Don't expect too much, though, whether in terms of content or updates.
1. Obsession

Obsession:

Syndra had known – long before her relationship with Zed had ever begun – that she was bound to be the jealous type; the prospect of sharing _anything_ , let alone a lover, to someone else – to another woman, no less – was one that even in thought alone threatened to fan her temper to dangerous levels. Which was why it was no surprise – at least to her – that when she had very unwillingly stumbled across the simple fact that Zed kept a circle of consorts at the Order, she had taken out her fury on a portion of her floating island. Thankfully for what remained of her home, her fury had calmed somewhat afterwards, and she resolved herself with confronting him as soon as possible. And though she had been somewhat distracted the day before by their usual night of passion, she was more than ready now.

As it was, she stood in her spacious bedroom, arms crossed firmly over her chest as she fumed silently at the large figure in front of her. She was clad in a thin purple nightgown, and her silver hair was loose around her face, She did not care that it could be seen as unfair that she was levelling her anger at Zed without having told him what had angered her, all she could think of was the notion of desperate hands that were not hers dragging nails down his back.

He was preparing to leave – to return to the Order for another day of leading his students – and though he was shirtless, he nevertheless had on a pair of his dark pants. Had she taken the time to think, in the back of her mind Syndra knew that she would have come to the conclusion that it should in no way have been a surprise that Zed had other lovers besides her. But Syndra was never one much for levelheaded contemplation, and right now, the thought of Zed's faceless harem waiting eagerly for his return boiled the blood in her veins.

Unable to stop herself, she let out a quick snort as she uncrossed her arms. Zed paused in his search for the rest of his clothes, straightening before turning around to look back at her.

"Is there something the matter?" he asked with infuriating coolness.

"Of course not," she scowled angrily. "Why would there be?"

Zed blinked evenly, and his speechlessness made her irritation flare up even more.

"Forget it," she spat. "Just hurry up and go. Surely there are female students of yours who require more _personal_ lessons from their master."

Zed froze, and it was clear that he had caught her unspoken suggestion. "My business at the Order is my own," he said icily, as though in answer.

Syndra bristled. "Yes, because that's all _I_ am to you, isn't it? Just _business_."

"Don't act so naïve," shot back Zed, his tone uncharacteristically short. "Surely you did not expect this to-,"

"To what?" she snapped, cutting him off before he could finish the words she did not want to hear from him. "Mean anything to you?" She threw her head back and let out a short, humorless laugh. "Of course not – I never expected anything more from a damn _ninja_."

"Then there is no problem."

"Of course not."

"I do not ask anything more of you," he said sharply as he turned away. "Nor do I _expect_ anything more from you, Syndra."

"Well, then," she said tightly. "Perhaps it's time I took my _business_ elsewhere."

To her satisfaction, Zed froze, and when he turned around, she could feel the anger radiating off of him in waves at her insinuation.

"No."

"I am not one of your students, _Master of Shadows_ ," warned Syndra, and she felt a swell of victory as she said it. "Don't presume that you can order me around like one of your concubines."

He took a menacing step closer, but Syndra did not move from where she stood. " _No_ ," he repeated, more sharply than before. Syndra hid a smirk at his tone – it seemed as though she had struck a nerve at last.

"That merchant back in the last village was rather handsome…" she continued, tapping a finger in mock thoughtfulness against her pouting lips.

"I'll kill him if you do,"

Syndra smirked, knowing that the gesture would only serve to enrage him further. "Oh? I did not expect such a show of pettiness from the feared leader of the Shadow Order."

Zed covered the distance between them in the span of a heartbeat, taking hold of her wrists with a painful tightness she was not expecting. Fear fluttered unwillingly in her chest as Syndra struggled, but she could not free herself with her own strength. Clenching hands into fists as her breath quickened, she felt in the air for the magic, and several Dark Spheres condensed around Zed.

"Let _go_ of me," she growled warningly, though her voice shook slightly.

" _Don't_ ," he snarled.

"Try to stop me."

It was an almost insignificant motion – the momentary brush of her breath against his lips as she exhaled – that finally sparked the nearly electric tension between them into flame.

A heartbeat later, his left hand was at the back of her neck, digging almost painfully into her hair as he kissed her as fiercely as she could. Syndra's own fervor matched his, and she dragged the nails of her right hand roughly down his bare chest, marveling at the firmness of his muscles as much as in his sharp inhale of pain. His other hand trailed possessively from the curve of her spine down to the back of her thighs, the shadow of his finger's path leaving goosebumps in their wake. He found the hem of her nightgown, and he hitched the material up almost past her waist, his fingertips dragging along the smooth skin of her inner thighs. Syndra trembled as he traced the outline of her underwear, exhaling hotly against his mouth as he did. She could feel her knees growing weaker by the second, and she clung to him in an effort to keep herself standing. The steadily building ache between her thighs flared up painfully as Zed's fingers brushed teasingly against the lacy material that covered her arousal.

Syndra exhaled shakily as his hand moved away from the apex of her thighs, once more snaking its way to the small of her back. He ran deliberate fingers up and down the line of her spine, toying momentarily at the latch to her bra before abandoning it in favor of a hand that wrapped around her waist. Syndra found herself suddenly hugged close to his body, and she pressed herself into him, their bodies fitting together as though they were made for one another.

Without warning – and before she could make a move of her own – he reserved their positions easily, slamming her against the wall with the roughness she reveled in from him. It was a roughness and a passion that was different from his usual distant demeanor, and it aroused Syndra more than she would admit when he abandoned his aloofness during their fierce nights together. Her shoulder blades cried out in protest as she was shoved roughly up against the wall, but she did not care in the slightest for the pain; the air was knocked from her lungs in a quick, breathless gasp, and before she could draw another breath, his lips had claimed hers with enough force to bruise. Her head was already swimming from the intensity of his kisses and from lack of oxygen alike, but it did not seem as though Zed had any intentions of stopping – not that she would have wanted him to in the first place.

His hand was at her collarbone now, and he tugged aside the flimsy strap of her nightgown to expose the pale skin of her shoulder. Without her lips ever leaving his, Syndra slipped her arm impatiently out of the nightgown's sleeve, and it slipped another few inches down her right side so that it hung off of her chest.

Her own hand came to rest at the back of his head, mirroring where his had been just moments before. Syndra knotted her fingers into his hair, making sure to be just a little bit rougher than she had to be. She did not know when exactly he had managed it, but at some point during the past struggle, he had lifted her left leg to wrap it around his waist; taking his unspoken cue, Syndra wrapped her other leg around his waist, and Zed pinned her even more closely against the wall, supporting her weight effortlessly with one firm forearm.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally tore his lips away from hers, and Syndra drew in greedy breaths of air that were little more than pants. Her arms were wrapped Zed's neck, and she could feel his heavy breathing hot against her collarbone. Though his right arm was still supporting her weight, his left hand had seemingly vanished, to her disappointment. It was only when she heard him fumbling at the waistband to his own pants with one hand that Syndra realized he planned to take her there against the wall, despite the fact that they were merely feet away from her bed.

Her whole body quivered deliciously with a hot flush of arousal that ran from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and without saying a word, Syndra let her right hand fall to his waist to aid him in his unclothing. With a low growl of approval, Zed kissed the hollow of her throat with an animalistic fervor, searing her with an almost painful pressure that left angry red marks against her pale skin. She fumbled at his pants for several seconds before she finally managed to undue the infuriating knot.

Syndra could feel his own stiff arousal easily through the thin cloth of his underwear, and the weight of him was heavy in her palm. Her fingers trembled with barely-contained anticipation as she finally freed him, and he inhaled sharply as she stroked him teasingly with her fingertips, dragging her nails lightly along his length. Her smug smile was lost as he kissed her again, his own hand tearing hers away from him and pinning it high over her head. Once he had let go, Syndra's fingers fumbled desperately along the wall for a hold, and she found a groove in the wood with which to support herself. Meanwhile, her left hand was still exploring the rest of his body, appreciating the firmness of his muscles and the rough ridges of his body's many scars.

She gave a quick cry of surprise as Zed suddenly hoisted her up slightly higher, readjusting his arm to better support her weight. His left hand trailed up the curve of her back before it came to a stop just between her shoulder blades. With an impatient sound, he ripped the remainder of her nightgown off of her, leaving the sheer material in tatters that hung off of her flushed skin. The dark purple material of her bra was stark against her flesh, and Zed's hand traced the swell of her breasts appreciatively. Syndra shuddered against her will, and Zed smirked at the motion.

Finding the latch of her brassiere, he ripped the lacy material off of her a second later. Syndra gasped as her sensitive flesh was unceremoniously exposed to the night air, but she was hardly in the right state of mind to form the words to protest – especially not after the wet heat of Zed's mouth found the peak of her left breast.

She bit back a downright pitiful whimper, biting down hard on her bottom lip as Zed tugged at her nipple with his teeth. Her left hand rose shakily to the back of his head, her fingers tangling themselves into his dark hair as she held him close to her body so as to erase what little distance remained. She winced slightly as the pressure against her breast rose to an almost painful threshold, but she was used to it – after all, their usual nights together were rarely anything less than ferocious. She moaned, the previous pain already forgotten as Zed moved from one breast to the other. Her legs were trembling noticeably around his waist now, and the heat between her legs was searing. Glaring at him as best she could with a face that was flushed red with desire, Syndra pressed her forehead to his. She did not need to be able to see him to know that his eyes were dark with need – a need that made her feel powerful, as she knew that it was one that only she could ever hope to fully satisfy for him.

Their lips brushed against one another with a surprising gentleness, and for a moment, something seemed to pass between them – something deeper and more intense than desire alone. But then, with a ferocity that was almost frightening, Zed's left hand found her underwear. His fingertips ran along the length of her burning heat before hooking around the damp material. With a single, ruthless motion, he tore it cleanly from her. Syndra hardly had a second to steel herself before he was inside of her, and the sudden pressure was enough to make her cry out sharply. But her soft cry of pain dulled almost immediately into a low moan of satisfaction as the sting of him softened into a delicious fullness.

Zed buried his face into her shoulder as he paused momentarily, breathing heavily as he muttered a low curse into her hair – the first word from either of them since their argument; she was tighter than any woman he had had before, and as smooth as silk as he shifted against her. Zed's legs trembled for a second as he rested his body against the heat of hers, and the smell of her – the headiness of lavender mixed with the surprising sweetness of her sweat – nearly drove him mad. Every time she moved even the slightest bit, it was perfection – _she_ was perfection: from the subtle movement of her breasts against his chest to the clenching and unclenching of her flesh around him as they began to move in tandem.

His movements were more viciously unrestrained than usual, and through the faint sting of the sensation, Syndra felt a smug sort of arrogance at the fact that she knew she was the only one who could ever get him to lose himself in such a way. But her thoughts were cut short as Zed readjusted the two of them once more; Syndra groaned as he changed the motion of his thrusts, angling himself upwards so as to reach ever deeper inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist more securely than before, relishing in the sensations that erupted in her abdomen as she ground her hips ravenously into his. Zed groaned loudly, pressing his right hand firmly against the wall for support as he began to thrust into her again and again with a ruthless precision that struck at the most sensitive spots inside of her.

Her breasts were nearly level with his head, and she held him against her, biting back another cry of surprise as he half-carried, half-threw her atop a nearby dresser. She cared little for the meaningless nothings that shattered against the floor as he pushed them aside to make room for her, or for the momentary sharpness as the back of her knees struck the side of the dresser; she was far more occupied with the rough hands that gripped her waist firmly to brace himself against her as he began to thrust once more. Syndra's legs were hanging off the dresser, and she could do little but moan at his relentless pace as she grasped desperately at the edge of the wood.

There was a fine sheen of sweat on both of their bodies, and it glistened like silver in the pale moonlight as their bodies ground against one another with a friction that did little justice to their desire. Syndra's hands had already abandoned all attempts of trying to support herself atop the dresser, and instead simply clung to Zed's broad shoulders. His chest was pressed against hers, and the sensation of his skin rubbing against hers only served to heighten her growing pleasure. He felt so indescribably good within her – hard and large, reaching places deep inside of her that she knew she could never reach on her own. Her fingers dug mercilessly into the skin of his back as he found a particularly sensitive spot, cutting into him with enough force to draw blood.

Zed growled into her neck as she dragged her nails possessively down the rest of his back, marking him in the only way she knew how; she would never again let any woman ever touch him in the ways she could – her markings on his skin would serve as their only warning. With a fierce growl of her own – the threating growl of an avaricious lioness, she took hold of his face with her right hand. Her thumb traced the scar that stretched down the left side of his face, and she seared his lips with a kiss that left them both breathless.

"No one else touches you but _me_ ," she snarled once she had pulled away. "Understand?"

And though she could not see it, Zed's eyes flashed with something dangerous, and he bit at the skin to her neck almost painfully.

"Only when you belong solely to _me_ ," he countered, redoubling his pace so that she was unable to stop a whimper from escaping. Syndra nodded desperately – she could feel her own pleasure rapidly approaching, but she would not give him the victory he desired until he conceded first.

"No one-," she gasped, unable to finish as she only just stopped herself from submitting to him for just a moment longer.

"No one but you," finished Zed in agreement, and at his words, Syndra smiled a dangerous smile that raised the hairs at the back of his neck – at last, she was satisfied that they had finally come to a mutual understanding.

" _Yes_ ," she gasped, letting her head fall back as she came hard around him, her word shattering into a thousand pieces.


	2. Offering

Offering:

 _offering_

[aw-fer-ing, of-er-]

noun

something offered in worship or devotion, as to a deity; an oblation or sacrifice.

…

It was dark in Ionia, and warm. The summer months had been relentless that year, and lazy heat spilled into every corner of every room like molasses. Though the large sliding doors that made up almost an entire wall of the bedroom had been left open for the night, not a single breath of wind blew to relieve some of the stupor. Outside, grass rustled in the non-existent breeze, and stars twinkled brightly in a cloudless sky.

On the bed, Riven leaned her head back against Yasuo's shoulder, dressed in a white, sleeveless shirt. Her hair was loose, and her eyes were closed. One of Yasuo's arms was wrapped gently around her waist, and the other busied itself with drawing slow circles on the back of her left hand. He had chosen to abandon a shirt altogether in the heat, and his own untied hair fell like ink around his shoulders. The short piece of thread that his wayward student had given him was tied around his left wrist for safekeeping, and it seemed to shimmer in the dim light with more colors than thread could rightfully contain.

He was humming, as well – a low, slow sound that resonated deep in his throat and his chest. It was a tune he still remembered from when he was a child, one that had been sung by his parents. And then later, when they were gone, by Yone, during their first nights in the sword school, when Yasuo had been unable to fall asleep. He had never guessed that Riven would not be one much for lullabies, but as she had not complained, he had not stopped.

Her white hair tickled his nose, and he could not get enough of the smell of her – a mixture of cinnamon and ash. After only the slightest moments of hesitant deliberation, he paused in his humming to press what he hoped was a gentle enough kiss against the skin at the back of her neck, just behind her ear.

To his relief, she exhaled contentedly, shifting slightly as she settled against him. "Something wrong?" she asked tiredly, tilting her head back slightly.

"Nothing," said Yasuo in reply, as he kissed her again, this time on the dip of her shoulder. "I just thought you were already asleep."

Riven inhaled deeply, and he felt the rising of her abdomen with the arm that was around still her waist. "Not yet."

"You should sleep. The rest would do you good."

He did not need to see her face to know that there was a slight smile on her face; her tone was enough to assure him so. "I'll sleep when I sleep."

A change had come over Riven in the past months – even Yasuo had noticed that; she seemed more at ease in Ionia, and had even gone without wearing the bandages that had marked her for so many years. She was more open with him, more receptive to his shows of affection, and – though the sight of it never failed to make his heart skip every single time – had begun to laugh and smile with more regularity. He had not asked her what she had seen in Noxus to prompt such a change in her, but there was no doubt in his mind that whatever it was, it had done her good. This new Riven was more confident, more assured, and – though he had scarcely believed it possible – even more beautiful than the one he had fallen in love with. Which only served to strength his resolve to never let her go again; he would tear down the walls of the Immortal Bastion if that was what it would take to get her back and keep her at his side.

"What are you thinking about?"

Yasuo blinked. He had not noticed that she had shifted even more, so that her face was turned to his, and that her crimson eyes were watching him with an expression of interest. She was so close to him that their noses were almost touching, and so that he could see the little flecks of gold in her irises, and where the crimson turned to amber at the edges.

He cleared his throat, caught off-guard by the sight of her. "You."

She scrutinized him for another moment, before a teasing half-smile curled the end of her mouth. "Is that so?"

Yasuo nodded, feeling a mischievous smile of his own tugging at his lips. "To be honest, it's quite the challenge to think of much else when you're so close."

"Close?" she repeated, raising one white eyebrow in mock confusion.

He nodded; she had twisted her body further, and his fingers ghosted up the side of her waist.

"You mean, like this...?" She moved even closer, so that their lips brushed against each other for the briefest of instances, and so that when she spoke again, he could feel her breath against his mouth. "Or like this?"

"Both," he breathed, his gaze flicking between her own crimson eyes, and the soft swells of her lips.

She tasted like cinnamon and honey when they completed the kiss, and Yasuo let his tongue glide across the length of her lower lip. She sighed into the kiss, tilting her head slightly as her right hand rested on his bare chest. The hand that had been at her waist moved lower now, trailing over the curve of her hips. The fingers of her own hand splayed out across his chest, digging appreciatively into the hard lines of muscle that twitched slightly under her curious nails. It moved, slow but with a deliberate purpose, up to his shoulder before following the path of his left arm down to his wrist. Then, with a sudden, unexpected pressure that sent an electric shiver up Yasuo's spine, she pinned it to the bed.

He let out an uneasy laugh, pulling away from the kiss as his eyes danced from his hand to her face and back again. Riven simply smiled deviously, and this time, the shiver ran down his abdomen to his growing arousal.

"I'll give you something to think about," she whispered dangerously, her expression dark.

Before Yasuo could reply, she had dipped her head suddenly, laying a path of kisses up the side of his neck. He groaned, his left hand still pinned uselessly to the sheets as she dragged her teeth along his jawline. He felt her hot breath against his ear, and the sudden closeness of him sent another throb down deep into his stomach. Her white hair was like spider-webs as she hovered over him, her expression unreadable in the moonlight. Then her mouth found his again, and Yasuo closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her soft lips. He felt her smile against him, and she took his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging with a pressure that was almost painful.

And then, before he could react, she had straddled him, sitting atop him as commandingly as a queen would her throne. He could not hide a grunt of exertion as she rolled her hips against him, pressing him into the bed. She wore a pair of cotton underwear, but he could still feel every movement of their bodies against each other even through the cloth.

With a force that Yasuo was almost ashamed to say was arousing, Riven yanked his wrist effortlessly above his head, pinning it to the headboard with a flash of grinning teeth. His right hand – which had been appreciating the taut muscles of her thighs – fell to the sheets, as though he were trying to show that he meant no ill will. To his surprise, however, Riven took it in her left, lacing their fingers together as she rested their intertwined hands on her hip. Slowly, she tugged her fingers out of his, but the lingering pressure that she applied to the back of his palm made her intentions clear.

 _Stay._

Letting go of his left hand as well, she took hold of the hem of her shirt, and – in one single movement – pulled it up over her head. In the silver glow of the moonlight, every feature of hers was made infinitely more enrapturing: her tanned skin took on a richness like burnt honey; her ash-white hair shone as though it were made of moonlight itself; her crimson eyes burned with an intensity that almost made Yasuo shiver beneath her; and each one of her scars was like a streak of silver on her skin.

Her breasts were full, and they rose and fell with each one of her slow breaths. The devious coyness was obvious on her face now, and she grinned openly as she followed the path of his gaze. Her right hand landed on his chest again, drawing circles like the ones he had drawn on her hand over his heart. Slowly, she trailed one fingertip up his collarbone and up the curve of his Adam's apple. Yasuo resisted the urge to lean his head back as she lingered on the hollow of his throat. Then, her fingertip scratched along the edge of his chin before stopping at the spot just below his jaw. With a pressure that he dared not disobey, she tilted his head back with one finger until he understood what she wished of him.

Moving slowly with her finger, Yasuo sat up, leaning back on his left arm as Riven readjusted himself so that the two of them were more comfortable. His hair cascaded down his back as he sat up, his eyes nearly level with the hollow of her throat. The pressure on his jaw had vanished, and he felt her fingers dig into the lengths of his hair at the back of his skull, guiding him to her skin. Yasuo exhaled against her, trembling slightly as he closed his eyes and kissed her collarbone. He wanted to enjoy it – enjoy every inch of her skin that she demanded he attend to. The fingers at the back of his skull guided him, moving him from her neck to her shoulders and back to her mouth until the two of them were breathing heavily. Then the fingers sharpened, and she tugged his hair slightly before guiding him further downward.

Yasuo kissed the skin between her breasts, and Riven made a low sound of approval that resonated in her throat. Embolden by her response, he dragged his teeth over the curve of her left breast. He felt her breathing hitch and her heartbeat quicken as he took the peak of her breast into his mouth. His tongue rolled around the flesh of her nipple, and he tugged at it slightly with his teeth, garnering a breathless gasp from Riven as she squirmed against him. He redoubled his efforts, moving from her left breast to her right as he repeated his ministrations. He felt her begin to tremble against him, the fingers in his hair shaking as her left hand trailed almost unconsciously to the place between her legs.

Her eyes were half-lidded as he finally pulled away, and she blinked as though disappointed. The thumb of his right hand found its way up her body and pressed against the now-erect flesh of her nipple soothingly. He let out a quiet grunt as she bucked against him, sitting up straighter and resting her full weight onto him. Her hands took hold of his commandingly, and with a force that was surprising, she pressed his palms against the swells of her breasts. She said nothing, but the light in her eyes was clear.

Her instructions now clear to him, Yasuo lay back down, exhaling as he let his hands explore every inch of her breasts. He caressed them, squeezing them and stroking them as she gazed down at him with an expression of adoring approval. His left hand continued his attentions as his right hand slipped down her stomach, passing over the long ridge of the scar that stretched across her abdomen.

Slowly, as though he wanted to hide the path of his hand from her, he trailed even lower, until his fingers reached the waistband of her underwear. The intensity in her eyes was almost frightening, but she made no protest as he slipped beneath the cloth. She stiffened, closing her eyes momentarily as he found her core with his thumb, pressing it against her sensitive flesh.

The next few motions were little more than a desperate blur as Riven slid off of him long enough for the two of them to remove their underwear. She resumed her position in the blink of an eye, and the new contact was electric. He was already rigid, and Riven ground herself against his length until Yasuo groaned with anticipation. Her hands had found him, stroking him with long, lazy strokes as his own hands dug into the sheets.

Then she guided him to her with one hand, the other resting against his shoulder for support as she sat up slightly. She was already slick with arousal, and he could feel the burning heat of her as she pressed the very head of him against her. The sight of him slipping slowly in between her folds was nearly enough to break his resolve, but Yasuo held himself back. Her mouth parted in a long, satisfied exhale as she sank onto him. Yasuo groaned softly as he slid into her with an excruciating slowness, closing his eyes as he leaned back on his right arm for support. It was several moments before she paused, the two of them breathing heavily as she took him entirely within her. The sensation was indescribable, and Yasuo's hands trembled as he gripped her waist. He had been with more than his share of women in his life, but none came close to the way Riven felt as he buried himself to the hilt inside her heat.

" _Gods_ …" he muttered slowly as she rocked her hips experimentally.

Riven grinned. Spurred on by his response, she rocked her hips back and forth again. She bit down on her lower lip, closing her eyes as she stopped an involuntary moan of her own. Yasuo's cock twitched at the quiet sound, and he bucked his hips to draw another soft moan out from between her lips.

She had been in command for the entire night thus far, but even so, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

His hands moved from her waist to the curves of her rear, pulling her closer against him so that every one of her movements drove him deeper inside of her. His own movements were more precise now, and he lingered only for a moment at the deepest point before drawing back out again. Together, they built up a steady rhythm that sent current after current of pleasure to every end of their bodies.

Riven's breaths came in quick pants now. Her hips were rocking back and forth with such reckless abandon now that the bed groaned from the motion. Her eyes were closed, her face twisted into some approximation of ecstasy as she drove down onto him with a ferocious hunger. Each new movement rang out another clash of skin meeting skin, and sweat trickled like oil down both of their bodies.

Riven fell forward suddenly, her hands pressing against the headboard for support as she rode Yasuo harder than she ever had before. Yasuo's hands were on her waist, his fingertips digging into her skin as he met each one of her movements with a ravenous thrust of his own. He made no effort to be quiet now, groaning loudly as he slid in and out of her with a friction that was almost unbearable. His brow was furrowed, and beads of sweat ran down his temples. The pressure building at the end of his cock was growing unbearable, and he knew that Riven was close as well.

He took hold of her hands, lacing their fingers together as he let her use him for leverage for their last movements together. With a final, desperate motion, Riven came. She cried out wordlessly, closing her eyes as she trembled around Yasuo. Though the trembling of her muscles, she felt him come as well, releasing a torrent inside of her that filled her completely as she writhed against him. He groaned as he did, holding her hips flush against his with his hands until he was spent. Her breasts heaved from the effort of trying to catch her breath as she leaned back, holding onto his hands for support until the moment had passed.

It was still several more seconds before her own spasms had subsided, leaving her trembling slightly with a low, deep warmth that resonated throughout every cell in her body. When it was finally over, she collapsed, exhausted, onto Yasuo. His arms wrapped around her body protectively, holding her close as they caught their breath. Slowly, his right hand ran up her back before finally stopping at her hair, which he began to untangle with gentle strokes.

"I've never thought about how lucky I am," he said, breaking the comfortable silence after several minutes.

"Hmm?" Riven's voice was sleepy, and she did not so much as open her eyes. "Lucky?"

"To have a goddess all for my own."


	3. Moon and Stars

Moon and Stars:

It was a clear night, and the moon shone in the sky as brightly as a diamond.

It was already well into the witching hour, but Ashe was still wide awake, with no intentions of sleeping any time soon. Presently, her attention was divided amongst the set of hands that roamed hungrily over the thin material of her nightdress, tugging at the fabric restlessly. Tryndamere's hands were strong – strong enough to break a man's arm with as little effort as it took to break a chicken's leg. Ashe had seen it happen once before, out on a battlefield of bloodstained snow. But at that moment, she had no fear of him breaking her. Her own hands were splayed out across his bare chest, feeling him beneath her fingertips as she pressed her lips against his. She stood nearly on her toes, and he still had to stoop to meet her.

She pushed him away all at once, and his momentary expression of frustration disappeared as he watched her tug her nightdress up over her head, casting the flimsy material away into a shadowed corner of the room. It took only a moment, and then their bodies had crashed together once more. Ashe felt his fingers tug impatiently at the straps to her brassiere, and she made a sound of dismay as he simply tore it off her. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she felt him stir beneath his own clothes as he pressed their bodies together.

With a sudden roughness that spoke to his growing impatience, he seized her by her shoulders and spun her around. Ashe exhaled sharply as he placed a firm hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward until she was all but bent over the side of their bed. Then he lifted her by her legs, placing her onto the covers so that she rested on her hands and knees. She felt his hands again, this time running appreciatively down the muscles of her bare back, then up the curves of her thighs.

Ashe felt herself begin to tremble as his finger traced the very outline of her underwear. Her breath hitched as she felt him near the place where the heat was strongest, and she felt him move aside the fabric. Then, there was a sudden, blinding flash of electric sensation, and Ashe stiffened suddenly as she felt one of his fingers slip inside of her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, stifling a whimper as he twisted his finger inside of her, curling it slightly as he placed his other hand onto the small of her back to still her trembling. Slowly, he began to slid it in and out of her deliberately – teasingly – curling and uncurling it as he did, until her legs were shaking and she could taste blood in her mouth. She bucked as he slipped another finger into her, and the sensation that already threatened to overwhelm redoubled. His fingers stretched her deliciously, and like before, he alternated between curling them and uncurling them inside of her. The hand that had been at the small of her back had moved to her neck, and he held her there like one would tame some wild beast. Time was lost to her as he continued his attentions with a torturous deliberateness that was so uncharacteristic of him.

Just when she thought she could bear it no longer, he stopped. Ashe opened her eyes at the sudden feeling of emptiness, blinking away the spots that danced before her eyes. Vaguely, she heard him unbuckle his own belt, and the soft sound of his kilt as it fell onto the floor. He took hold of her waist, pulling down her underwear so roughly that she heard them rip, and felt them fall in tatters around her ankles. He adjusted their positions as he situated himself behind her, spreading her legs apart just a little wider and pulling her closer to the edge of the bed.

The hand that had been her neck returned now to her waist, and she felt him hold her steady. Then she felt the head of him press against her wet heat, and Ashe could not stop the gasp that escaped her. Slowly, inch by exquisite inch, he pushed into her. She was sopping, and though he entered her easily because of it, she felt him stretch her agonizingly nevertheless. The sting was significant, but she was no stranger to pain, and the pleasure was made all the sweeter for it.

Tryndamere paused as he finally sheathed himself fully inside of her, holding her rear flush against his own thighs as he caught his breath. His right hand – which had been holding onto her waist with enough force to surely leave a bruise in the morning – slid up the quivering skin of her back. Ashe trembled, feeling his fingertips trace the outline of her shoulder blades and the line of her spine. She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as he once more, and she felt him steady against her.

Then he slid out of her – excruciatingly slow – and Ashe gasped aloud, unable to stop herself. She dug her fingers like claws into the bedsheets, biting her lip hard at the feeling of emptiness he left behind. But it lasted only for a second – before she could draw breath, Tryndamere had slammed back into her, and the sudden force made Ashe cry out in equal parts pain and approval. She heard him exhale sharply in satisfaction, and pride swelled in her chest, as hard and as large as he felt inside of her. Ashe arched her back, feeling as though she would shatter as he began to move with an urgent need. He drove into her like a stallion, and she heard his breaths come in fast, low grunts that echoed the sound of their flesh meeting.

She was never shy about being loud – it was one of the many things that had surprised even herself when they had begun to spend their nights together. She would moan and gasp and scream his name because she knew the whole castle would hear them – and she wanted them to. She wanted them to know that she was his and he was hers and that no one would ever be able to come between them.

She was not quiet now, crying out every time he reached that perfect spot deep inside of her that sent electricity running from her stomach out to every inch of her body. She felt him run his hands appreciatively over the curves of her thighs and her rear, gripping them with a possessiveness that made her insides tremble deliciously. Each thrust of his earned another approving sound from her, until she felt herself begin to quiver around him. Her orgasm hit her like a sudden thunderstorm, sending lightning coursing along every nerve ending as she trembled violently. She collapsed against the bed, biting down hard on the sheets to stifle her whimpers as she shook.

All the while, Tryndamere was relentless, his pace not decreasing for an instant as she felt herself break apart and come back together too many times to count. He seized her hair suddenly as though it were reins, pulling her head back so roughly that she cried out at the unexpectedly roughness. With one hand holding her fast, the other snaked around her waist so that it rested against the muscles of her navel. Catching his intent, Ashe leaned back, so that her shoulders pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. She felt the heat of him as he continued to move against her, and she felt the heat of his breath on the back of her neck. Still arching her back, she reached up and over herself. Her fingers tangled themselves in the mass of his hair, holding him by the back of his head. Leaning her head back slightly, she looked at him.

His face was dark and intense, and her own desire was mirrored in his eyes. His hands had left her hair and her waist, coming around instead to cup her breasts. Desperately, she pressed her lips against his, sighing aloud as he broke away, only to ravage the delicate skin of her neck and shoulders.

She could not stop the loud gasp that came next, her eyes fluttering open as she felt his fingers suddenly between her legs. His left hand was still at her breasts, but his right had begun to stroke quick circles on the very center of her heat with the clear intent of driving her to orgasm again. Madly, she let her own hand fall, and her fingers joined his as drove her own pleasure higher and higher.

With a sudden release like a bow with its strings cut, she came again. This time, she felt Tryndamere peak as well, and she heard him growl as he let himself free inside of her. Ashe rested against the reassuring weight of his chest as she waited for her spasms to subside. Her right hand drifted lazily to where his rested against her still-quivering thigh, and she laced her fingers between his. He had begun to curve of her collarbone with a tenderness that was markedly opposed to the urgency of moments before. As he did, he murmured in his rough barbarian language against her skin – words that she now knew.

"My moon and stars…" he whispered softly, and she felt his lips form the words.

Ashe smiled slightly. Slowly, she turned herself around so that she could look him in the face. His eyes were glittering with a deep, unreadable emotion. She cupped his face with her hands, brushing stray hairs out of his face as she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

"My sun and skies," she muttered in return, pressing her lips gently against his.

Together, they fell back against the bed, utterly spent. With the tenderness he showed only her, Tryndamere drew her into his arms, holding her tightly against the warmth of his chest. Ashe settled there against him, and she knew that the heat from him would be more than enough for the night. She could feel the sweat beginning cool on their bodies as she closed her eyes.


End file.
